


Outed

by moondragon23



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Secrets, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondragon23/pseuds/moondragon23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret about a certain head detective is revealed, throwing Carlton's life into shambles. Dealing with the aftermath, he is surprised to find Shawn Spencer one of the few people he can still rely on, maybe even a friend. However, Carlton cannot help but remain suspicious of Shawn's real reason for helping him. What is it that the psychic is trying to hide? SLASH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flashback and a phone call

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> In case you missed it in the pairing and the summary, this is a slash story. If you don't like it, don't read it. Any reviews bashing the story because of this will be deleted.  
> This pairing is the reason I started writing fanfiction. I have part of the story written and will update weekly until I run out of stuff to post. Hopefully I will be able to keep up. But I have holiday fics planned that need to be posted by their respective holidays, so they will take priority. I decided to start posting this anyway because I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer.  
> This story takes place halfway through season 3 before Lassie Did a Bad Bad Thing. But I draw on information from all seven seasons so far, so beware of spoilers.

_Santa Barbara 1989_

 

The slamming of the kitchen door heralded Shawn's return home from school. Henry looked up from his newspaper as his son entered the room. “What did I tell you about slamming doors, Shawn?” he said irritably.

“Sorry,” Shawn muttered sullenly.He quickly crossed the kitchen and stomped his way up the stairs. A few seconds later Henry heard another door slam.

Typical. The kid never listened, at least not completely. He had noticed Shawn used less force to slam his bedroom door. Sometimes he thought his son was too smart for his own good.

Henry sighed, folding his paper. He better go figure out what happened before Shawn destroyed the house. He got up from the table and headed up stairs.

As he suspected, Shawn's bedroom door was shut. He gave a quick rap on it. “Shawn?”

“Go away.”

Henry opened the door and rolled his eyes at the sight that met him. Shawn was sprawled face down on the bed,face mashed into the comforter. His shoes and backpack were still on. It looked like he had come in and thrown himself on the bed in a melodramatic fit.

Henry crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “I thought you were going over to the Guster's after school today.”

“Gus hates me,” Shawn said, voice muffled by the bedspread.

“What did you do this time?” Henry asked.

Shawn turned his head to look at him. “Why do you always assume it's my fault?” he whined petulantly.

Henry just looked at Shawn, saying nothing.

Shawn sighed, turning his face back into the bedspread. “It's not fair. She's the one that started it.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “She?”

Shawn sighed again. “Lucy Reynolds.”

“What does she have to do with Gus being mad at you?” Henry asked.

Shawn folded his arms under his head and muttered something into the sheets.

“Louder, Shawn.”

Shawn lifted his head slightly. “I made her cry in front of everyone at recess,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Henry sighed. It could never be a simple fix with Shawn. He crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to his son. “Alright kid, start from the top and tell me what happened.”

Shawn turned his head towards Henry. He didn't look at him, just started tracing a design on the comforter. “Lucy was telling everyone how her dad had taken her to a Seabirds game. And that her mom had promised to take her to Disney Land this weekend.” Shawn scoffed. “Everyone was treating her like she was special. You took me to a Seabirds game. It's not that big a deal.”

It was obvious Shawn was jealous of the attention this girl was getting. Knowing his son, Henry guessed what happened next. “Did you tell her that?”

Shawn nodded. He was plucking at the blanket now, pulling out little threads. “She just said I was jealous because my dad was too cheap to take me anywhere. Which isn't true,” Shawn said quickly, glancing up at Henry. He nodded, amused by Shawn's sudden show of loyalty.

Shawn turned his gaze back to the blanket and sighed heavily. “Then she said her dad got her a mini bike. A mini bike.” He looked up at Henry incredulous. “Who gives a girl a mini bike? She probably wouldn't even know what to do with it.”

Henry could hear the envy in Shawn's voice. Ever since he had found out about them, he had been pestering Henry for one every chance he could get. But Henry thought they were too much like training for a motorcycle, and there was no way he was ever going to let Shawn have one of those death traps.

He noticed Shawn's plucking at the blanket had become nearly frantic. It seemed they were almost to the crux of the matter. “So what happened next?”

“I said why should I be jealous of someone whose parents are splitting up?” Shawn turned his face back into the bedspread.

Henry sighed heavily, looking down at his idiot son. “That was a horrible thing to say.”

“But it's true,” Shawn said defensively. “And don't you say you should always tell the truth?”

“When someone asks you something, yes you should always tell the truth,” Henry said. “But that doesn't mean it's okay to tell other people's secrets.”

“But someone asked her why her parents kept getting her stuff and taking her places,” Shawn said, sitting up on the bed. “She said it was because they loved her.”

“And I'm sure they do,” Henry replied.

“But that's not why they did it,” Shawn argued. “It was because they are splitting up. Which means she was lying. So everyone shouldn't have gotten mad at me. They should've been mad at her.” He didn't sound very confident about his argument and refused to meet Henry's eyes.

At least the kid knew he was in the wrong. Now he just needed him to understand why. “Shawn, what happened after you said what you did to Lucy?” Henry asked.

Shawn started fiddling with a shoelace. “She yelled at me, then started crying.”

“And why do you think she did that?” Henry prompted.

“Girls are crazy?” Shawn asked hesitantly.

“She was upset. She didn't want people to know her parents are getting a divorce,” Henry explained. “She lied so people wouldn't find out.”

Shawn seemed to ponder this for a moment. “But you said you should always tell the truth,” he said stubbornly.

Henry sighed. Sometimes he couldn't tell if Shawn was being difficult on purpose or truly didn't understand something. “Sometimes, when it's something other people don't need to know, it's ok to lie,” Henry tried to explain.

“Like when someone gets an F on a paper?” Shawn asked.

Henry looked at him sharply. “What paper?”

“No paper,” Shawn said quickly. “But you wouldn't _need_ to know that, right?”

Henry gave him a long stare. Shawn stared back at him innocently.

“I meant something personal,” Henry said, dropping the issue for now. “Like the fact that you cried watching _Bambi_.”

“I did not,” Shawn protested.

“I saw you Shawn, you were bawling like a little girl,” Henry said. He hid a grin as Shawn fidgeted uncomfortably on the bed next to him. “Now, would you want everyone at school to know that?”

“No,” Shawn muttered.

“Do they need to know?” Henry asked.

“No.”

“There you have it,” Henry said with satisfaction.

“So it's like a secret,” Shawn said slowly.

“Exactly.”

“But didn't you say keeping secrets is almost as bad as lying?” Shawn asked in confusion.

Henry sighed. “It's complicated.”

“So is it or isn't it ok to lie?” Shawn asked in frustration.

Henry ran a hand through his hair. “Look, how about this. Don't lie and don't keep secrets from me or your mother.”

“But I can keep secrets from Gus?” Shawn asked.

Henry nodded reluctantly.

“But to do that I would have to lie. And you said no lying,” Shawn pointed out.

Henry gave up. “Just don't make anymore girls cry, alright,” he said in defeat.

Shawn nodded. “I can do that.” He shrugged out of his backpack as he got up and headed to the door.

“Where do you think you're going?” Henry asked.

Shawn paused in the doorway. “To see if Gus is still talking to me?” he asked hesitantly.

“Nice try,” Henry said. He stood up and steered Shawn back into the room and sat him on the edge of the bed. “But you're grounded.”

“Grounded?” Shawn asked in shock. “Why?”

“An F on a paper?” Henry asked. “Thought you could sneak that one past me, didn't you?” He walked to the doorway, leaving Shawn looking stunned. “Face it, kid, I always know when you're lying.”

Shawn flopped back on the bed with a groan. “Today sucks.”

“That's life, kid.”

Henry closed the door and headed back downstairs. He hoped Shawn had gotten something out of their little talk. Lying could be useful for a cop, but only in the right circumstances.

He rubbed at his temple where he could feel a headache forming. Maybe Maddie would have a better idea how to explain everything to Shawn when she got home.

 

_Santa Barbara 2008_

Shawn Spencer surveyed the table in front of him.

Soda? Check.

Assorted snacks? Check.

Sliced up pineapple sweetness? Check.

Everything was ready for a relaxing night spent in front of the TV. He sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. Now to pick which show would star in his impromptu mini marathon. He scrolled through the shows recorded on the TiVo until he came across one of his favorite crime dramas. Queuing up the first episode, he popped open a can of soda and sprawled out on the couch with a sigh.

It had been a busy week. First there was the robbery case for the police, which Shawn had managed to solve in record time. But it had involved a lot of leg work on his part in order to stay ahead of the two detectives on the case. As if he wasn't busy enough, Psych had managed to land not one but two private cases this week. Both of which involved cheating spouses, which meant hours spent trailing the accused parties to get the incriminating photos. Gus felt such cases were beneath them and had refused to help. This meant Shawn had to spend a few sleepless nights to get the evidence he needed, which was why he was currently stretched out on the couch in the Psych office relaxing instead of going out like he usually does on Friday nights.

He had invited Gus to his evening of gluttony and mindless television but his friend had other plans. Tonight marked his fifth date with Monica and Gus seemed to really like her. Too bad Shawn knew it wouldn't last. He had seen her flirting with several of her coworkers at Bed Bath & Beyond. Judging by the videos he found in the box hidden at the back of her closet, she had also done some extensive mattress testing in the back room. And a few times on the floor models. But since he had promised Gus he wouldn't spy on his new girlfriend, he had to keep his mouth shut until it all blew up in his face, which should be any day now.

Shawn grabbed a hand full of chips, spilling half of them on the floor. He sighed but made no move to clean up the mess. That was too much work right now. Besides, if he left it, Gus would clean it up. Sure, he would lecture Shawn the entire time about keeping the office clean for potential clients but Shawn would still get out of doing it. It was one of the perks of doing this here. That and the TiVo. Shawn didn't see a point in paying for his own when they already had one for the office. He had already loaded it up with all his favorite shows.

Right now, he was watching the squint squad help Booth solve another FBI case. Like with most cop shows, he had figured out who the killer was within the first five minutes, but the interactions between the characters kept him watching. Especially between Booth and Brennan. He had been rooting for them for years and was glad they had finally become a couple. Now, if only such a relationship would work between him and a certain detective.

His train of thought was interrupted when his phone started playing Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.' _Speaking of detectives_ he thought with a smile. He quickly paused the show before grabbing his phone. “Hey Jules. What's up?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Hello, Earth to Jules,” he said in a sing song voice.

“Shawn, hi,” Juliet said finally. He noticed her voice sounded a little higher than normal. “Um, so what's new?”

“Nothing much,” he said, thinking the question odd. He had just seen Juliet yesterday, after all. “Just hung out with Gus and played video games all day. I was totally kicking his ass in Soul Caliber IV.”

“Good, good,” she said, voice tapering off into silence.

It was clear she was nervous about something. He glanced over at the clock. It was a little late for this to be about a new case, and she had never sounded so flustered calling about a case before. Something else was going on. “So, Jules, why is a pretty detective like you calling me on a Friday night?” he asked, deciding the best approach here was to just ask her outright. “Shouldn't you be out on a date, rocking the night life?”

There was another lengthy pause. He took a sip of his soda as he waited impatiently for her to answer. “I need to ask a favor,” she said hesitantly.

“Is this one of those favors that could lead to embarrassing blackmail photos for years to come?” he asked teasingly.

“Shawn, this is serious,” she snapped angrily. He was surprised by her tone. Juliet was usually so happy and cheerful. It was her partner that was liable to bite someone's head off over a little joke. It was eerie and worrisome how close she sounded to Lassiter just then.

He turned off the TV and put down his soda, the call now gaining his full attention. “Jules, what's going on?” he asked uneasily. Her nervousness, the odd timing of the call, snapping at him over a joke; everything was telling him something had happened.

“I screwed up. Big,” she said quietly. “And now Carlton. . .” He heard her sigh. “I'm worried about him.”

“Screwed up how?” Shawn asked anxiously. “Was it a case you were working on? Did someone get hurt? And why are you worried about Lassiter? Did something happen to him?” He was talking too fast, something he always did when he was nervous. But having grown up around cops, he knew how bad it could get when something went wrong with a case.

“No one got hurt,” she said, causing Shawn to relax slightly. “And it wasn't a case. Look, something happened down at the station today. I told. . .I may have. . .” He felt his interest peak. She sounded almost. . . embarrassed, trying to tell him what had happened. She continued with a sigh. “I just really think someone needs to check on Carlton,” she said quietly.

“Jules, this is Carlton Lassiter we're talking about,” Shawn reminded her. “Gruff Irish detective with a bad temper? Never lets anything get to him? Whatever happened, he'll just get drunk, get over it, and be fine by Monday.”

“Not something like this,” she insisted. She took a deep breath. “I know you guys don't always get along, but could you check on him? I think he could really use a friendly, non-police face tonight.”

“OK,” Shawn said slowly, slightly confused. _Non-police?_ “Seriously Jules, what the hell happened? Why are you so worried about him?”

“He'll probably be at the bar near his house,” Juliet said, ignoring his question. “Thanks Shawn.” He heard a beep as the call disconnected.

He sat there a moment, staring at his phone. “Well, that has to have been the strangest phone call of all time.” What could have possibly happened that would lead Juliet to call him, worried about Lassiter of all people? He tried to piece together the few bits of information he had. He knew it wasn't about a case. It almost sounded like it was personal. Something personal about Lassiter. Except the man was usually an emotional rock. So whatever happened would have to be really big to break through that tough exterior. Something big enough to lead his partner to call one of his least favorite people in the world to check up on him. Shawn shook his head. None of it made any sense.

Knowing he would probably regret this, he got up and grabbed his keys. The quickest way to find out what was going on was to go to the source. And that meant tracking down an irritable, and possibly drunk, Head Detective.


	2. The Truth is Out There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive feedback. I was worried how this story would be received.  
> Now, as promised, drunk Lassie.

Carlton Lassiter signaled the bartender for another drink. Today had been one of the worst days of his life. Worse than the birthday party at his house full of all the people he had arrested. Worse than the day his ex-partner Lucinda said she was transferring because of rumors of their relationship.

It might even be worse than the day his ex-wife had asked him for a divorce. In all those other cases, he at least had the job to fall back on. Now he had probably lost that too.

He had gone straight to the bar from work, sorely tempted to use the lights and sirens to get there faster. He barely took the time to take off his jacket and loosen his tie before starting on the first drink.

He couldn't remember ever wanting to get drunk this bad in his life. All he wanted was to forget what had happened. If that was even possible. Three drinks in and he still could remember everything in perfect detail. Maybe number four would finally start to dull the pain.

The bartender came over, eyeing Carlton speculatively. He was new here, younger than Carlton, and had that fit, tan look that said he spent a lot of time outdoors. _Life a surfer or some other layabout with too much free time on his hands_ , he thought sourly.

Judging by the expression on the man's face, Carlton must look worse than he had realized. “I think you've had enough,” the bartender said carefully.

“I'll tell you when I've had enough, _dude_ ,” Carlton growled. He wasn't slurring his words yet, so he still had a ways to go before he was properly wasted. He fixed a glare on the man, daring him to say something.

The bartender sighed. “I'll need your keys first,” he said wearily, holding out his hand.

Carlton grumbled, but obediently handed them over. He had picked this bar because it was close enough to his house that he could walk home. “Just keep them coming,” he demanded. The bartender nodded and walked off to pour his drink.

He put his head down on the bar, letting the cool wood soothe the headache he could already feel forming. He had spent years putting in long hours, rising up through the ranks, making head detective, hoping one day to make chief. All that work, destroyed by one careless statement. He wasn't even sure he could show his face at work on Monday.

Feeling someone sit down next to him, he raised his head to tell them to fuck off and sit somewhere else. When he realized who it was he groaned, lowering his head back to the bar. “Does the universe really hate me this much?” he mumbled into the beer-stained wood.

“Nice to see you to Lassie,” Spencer replied dryly. “Good to see the alcohol hasn't dulled your people skills.”

The bartender returned with Carlton's drink, placing it down next to his head. He could feel the pitying look the man gave him before turning to Spencer. “What will you have?”

“Just a beer,” Spencer said.

Carlton waited until the bartender left before lifting his head. He grabbed his drink and downed half of it, the scotch burning in the back of his throat. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised you know by now,” he said, turning to Spencer. “Did you come here to add to my misery?” The last thing he needed right now was Spencer taunting him over what happened.

“Not at all, Lassieface,” Spencer reassured him. He was watching the detective carefully. “I just sensed you might need a friend tonight.”

Carlton narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “O'Hara sent you, didn't she?” he said accusingly.

“She did,” Spencer admitted. “She's worried about you.”

“Well, you can tell her to butt out of my life,” Carlton said. He downed the rest of his drink and placed the glass down with a thud. “Her nosiness is what started this whole mess in the first place.”

Spencer looked at the glass, than back up at Carlton. “I'm sensing you've had quite a few drinks already,” he said, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Can it, Spencer,” Carlton said, facing forward. “I'm not in the mood for your psychic crap tonight.” He impatiently signaled the bartender for another drink.

“Come on Lassie, talk to me,” Spencer said. He grabbed Carlton's arm, trying to get his attention. He seemed surprised when the detective violently flung him off. “Seriously, dude, are you OK?” he asked, looking at him worriedly.

“What do you think?” Carlton snapped. “My whole life is ruined.”

“I'm sure it's not _that_ bad,” Spencer said.

Carlton gave him a hard look. “Not that bad? What part of destroying my career is not that bad?” Even Spencer should understand the ramifications of what had happened. He had grown up around cops, after all. He knew their mentality. Instead Spencer was just sitting there, looking like he didn't have a clue what Carlton was talking about.

 _Maybe he doesn't_ Carlton suddenly realized. Spencer hadn't been at the station today, after all. “What exactly did O'Hara tell you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Just that something happened at work today and she wanted me to come down here to check on you.” Before Carlton could process this new piece of information, Spencer went on. “I've already ruled out the FBI investigating a possible alien sighting in Santa Barbara and not letting you in on the case.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Although I did see a guy in a trench coat at Starbucks who I thought had antenna sticking out of his head.” He slammed his hand down on the bar, startling the bartender as he brought over Carlton's drink. “I change my mind,” Spencer said. “Government cover-up is back on the table.” The bartender gave Spencer a strange look before walking away to help another customer. Spencer just grinned at him before looking at Carlton expectantly. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to guess?”

Carlton took a sip of his drink, giving himself time to think. He had learned over the years that most of what Spencer said was completely irrelevant to the conversation at hand. Although it was harder to separate the useful facts from the crap at his current level of drunkenness. _Was_ _drunkenness_ _even a word?_ he wondered briefly, before forcing his mind back to the task at hand. There seemed to be only one important thing Spencer had said.

The psychic seemed to be the only one that didn't know what happened today. _A_ _nd wasn't that ironic_ he thought sourly.

That meant O'Hara had finally learned how to keep her mouth shut, and it meant he got a reprieve from the jokes and teasing, at least for tonight. Although, he did wonder why Spencer had come down here if it wasn't to torment him.

Spencer took his long silence as a refusal to answer him. “Fine. I'll guess then.” He cleared his throat theatrically and sat up straight, putting a hand to his head. “I know it happened at the station. I also know it wasn't work related; whatever happened was personal. Something Juliet feels was her fault.” He looked at Carlton inquisitively. The detective reluctantly nodded, worried how quickly Spencer was putting the pieces together. “So she either said or did something that caused the 'incident.' Since it was personal, I'm going with she said something she shouldn't have. Something you didn't want your coworkers to find out. It must have been something big if you think it ruined your career.” Spencer grinned at him, eyes sparking with interest. “So what's the big secret? An even weirder hobby than civil war reenactments or squirrel hunting. An embarrassing relative?” He leered at Carlton. “A scandalous relationship, perhaps?”

“That's enough,” Carlton said, cutting him off quickly. With all the flailing around and random movie references, he forgot how perceptive the damn 'psychic' was. He was getting way to close to figuring out the truth. Even now Spencer was watching him, studying his reaction.

Carlton took a drink of his scotch, trying to appear calmer than he felt. “I'm not discussing this with you, Spencer,” he said forcefully. “So either shut the hell up or leave.”

“OK,” Spencer said calmly. He turned to face the bar, taking a long pull of his beer.

Carlton waited a couple of minutes, but Spencer continued to sit there, cradling his beer bottle between his hands, occasionally taking a drink. “Well?” Carlton asked finally. “Aren't you going to leave?”

“You said shut up _or_ leave,” Spencer pointed out. He shrugged. “I chose the first option.” He held up his empty beer bottle, signaling to the bartender for another.

Carlton stared at him for a long moment. Spencer continued to sit there quietly, for once acting like a normal human being. “Fine,” he said finally. The man was at least making an effort, he would give him that. But that didn't mean Carlton wouldn't set some ground rules. “But if you stay, absolutely no talking. Or I'll shoot you.” The bartender, bringing Spencer's drink, heard this last line. He looked uneasily at Carlton, clearly worried about the drunk detective carrying out his threat. Carlton sighed and flashed the man his badge. “Beat it,” he growled, glaring at him.

The bartender made a hasty retreat.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, but kept to his promise and didn't say anything.

They drank in silence for the next ten minutes. Carlton was surprised Spencer was able to keep up his end of the bargain so well. The man usually talked non-stop, even if most of what he did say didn't make sense. But here he was, drinking silently, barely even glancing at Carlton. The detective found it a little unnerving. “I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet,” he commented.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “You did say no talking,” he reminded Carlton.

“Since when do you ever do anything I say?” Carlton grumbled.

Spencer sighed, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “Look, I may not know what happened, but judging by the way you've been throwing back drinks all night, you're having a tough time dealing with it. And since I'm the closest thing to a friend you've got, the least I can do is try to help.” He glanced over at Carlton. “So while I'm all for talking things out, if what you want is silence, then silence you will get.” He took a hasty drink of his beer, looking away, uncomfortable after his little speech.

“Well, thanks,” Carlton said grudgingly. It was strange to hear Spencer sound so, so. . . well, he guessed mature would be the right word. Almost like he really was an adult and not the prepubescent man-child he always acted like.

Spencer shrugged. “No problem.”

They continued to sit in silence. Carlton ordered another drink. The bartender brought it over nervously, fleeing as quickly as he could. Carlton sighed, ignoring Spencer's smirk at the bartender's discomfort. He would probably have to find a new bar to go to after tonight. The thought didn't upset him as much as it normally would. Probably because of the large amount of cheap scotch currently flowing through his bloodstream, though it hadn't done much to help him forget. While the alcohol had muted the pain, he could still remember all too clearly the events from earlier in the day.

He glanced over at Spencer. Despite his antics, he always managed to solve the case, no matter how unusual the crime was. Carlton had come to respect him for that, though he would never admit it when sober. So maybe that's why he found himself wanting to tell Spencer what happened.

It was probably a bad idea. No, it definitely was a bad idea. Anything decided while this drunk usually was. . . but Spencer was going to find out eventually, and maybe he was right and talking about it would help. Drinking certainly wasn't helping. So it wasn't like Carlton had anything left to lose at this point.

“She outed me at work,” he said quietly.

Spencer gave him a puzzled look. “Outed what, exactly?” he asked.

Carlton sighed. Of course this time Spencer wouldn't figure things out on his own. He would have to spell it out for him. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. “I'm gay, Spencer.”

Something flickered over Spencer's face, too quick for Carlton, in his drunken state, to comprehend. “Oh,” he said softly, nodding once in understanding. He turned back to his drink without saying anything else.

Carlton blinked. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. In fact, it barely qualified as a reaction at all, especially from a loudmouth like Spencer. “Well, aren't you going to say anything?” he asked after a moment.

Spencer cocked his head to the side. “I thought you didn't want to talk about it.”

“Damn it, Spencer!” Carlton snapped, turning to glare at the psychic angrily. “You always have an opinion about everything. So go ahead! Tell me what you really think.”

Spencer took a long pull of his beer before turning to face Carlton. “Well, I am a little surprised,” he admitted.

“That's it?” Carlton asked when that seemed all the psychic was going to say on the matter.

“Yeah.” Spencer waved his hand dismissively. “You're gay. So what?”

“So what?!” Carlton asked incredulously, voice rising. Some of the other patrons were starting to glance over at them, drawn by the yelling. He made an effort to lower his voice. “I tell you my biggest secret, a secret that may have just ruined my career, and all you can say is 'so what?'” he hissed.

“It doesn't change who you are,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. “So you like guys.” He grinned at Carlton. “That just means more women for the rest of us, and less competition.” He grabbed his beer with a shrug. “It's not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” Carlton shouted. Several people were staring openly at them now, watching the scene. He flushed but continued to glare at Spencer. His life was in ruins and the man was treating it like a joke.

Spencer looked at him intently, hazel eyes meeting his blue ones. Carlton was surprised by how serious he looked in that moment. “Not to me,” he said quietly.

Carlton stared at him for a stunned moment before looking away. He didn't know what to think. Of all the reactions he had expected from Spencer (jokes, pranks, some kind of ridiculous gay pride celebration), this was not one of them. Even his own mother, a lesbian herself, had needed more time to adjust to the idea that her son was gay.

But Spencer just calmly accepted it, like Carlton had admitted to nothing more than a fondness for Clint Eastwood movies. Accepted it and moved on. He truly didn't seem to see Carlton any differently.

He groaned, putting his head in his hands, suddenly feeling exhausted. It was too much to think about, on top of everything else that had happened today.

Spencer finished his drink and stood up. “Come on,” he said, patting Carlton on the arm. He pulled out his wallet and threw some cash on the bar to cover their drinks.

Too tired to protest, Carlton stood up slowly, leaning against the bar to steady himself. He grabbed his jacket off the bar stool next to him. “Where are we going?” he asked, struggling to put his jacket on. He managed to get one arm in but the second one was giving him some trouble.

“You're going home,” Spencer said. “I think you've had enough tonight.” He walked over and grabbed the jacket, holding it so Carlton could get his arm in the sleeve.

He jerked away, glaring at Spencer. “I've got it.” It took him another few tries, but he managed to get his other arm in the sleeve. He turned and took a few unsteady steps towards the door. The room suddenly started to spin and he would have fallen if Spencer wasn't there to catch him. “Get off me, I'm fine,” he said, slurring his words.

“Sure you are,” Spencer said, throwing Carlton's arm over his shoulders. He grunted slightly under the weight. “Let's go.” Holding Carlton up, he managed to get him across the bar and out the door.

The cool night air helped clear Carlton's head. By the time they reached his house, he was able to walk on his own. The front steps proved a bit of a challenge but he managed them without any help. He turned to Spencer when they reached the front door. Unsure what to say, he asked the question that had been bothering him most of the walk home. “Why did you come to the bar tonight?”

Spencer grinned, shaking his head. “Like I said, you needed a friend.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy. You're going to have one wicked hangover tomorrow.” He headed down the front walk. “See you Monday!” he called back over his shoulder.

Carlton watched him walk off down the street back towards the bar. _A friend, uh?_ He must be pretty far gone if he was even considering being friends with the fake psychic. Shaking his head, he unlocked his front door and went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	3. Those Judging Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're finally getting into the meat of the story. How Carlton reacts in this chapter was based on his actions in Lassie Did a Bad Bad Thing (one of my favorite episodes).  
> Enjoy.

Carlton walked slowly up to the police station. For the first time in a long time, he was dreading going into work. He had spent the entire weekend worrying what he would face when he came back today.

Well, that's how he had spent Sunday at least. Saturday he spent suffering from one of the worst hangovers he had had in years. Sometimes he forgot he wasn't young anymore and couldn't drink like he did Friday night without consequences. Spencer had been right about that at least.

Of course, being right about one thing didn't make him right about everything else. That night was a little hazy but he still remembered most of what Spencer had said. Including the bit about it “not being a big deal” that he was gay. Maybe Spencer had no trouble accepting it, but that didn't mean the rest of the world would be the same way.

Carlton made a face. He had never cared about Spencer's opinion on anything else before. Why did it matter this time?

 _Because now he's one of the few people still on your side_ , his mind supplied. _Maybe someone you can count on._

“Shut up,” he muttered. But he couldn't argue with his own logic. Besides it felt, nice, to know someone might have his back in all this.

Reaching the entrance, he hesitated before entering the building. This was it. The moment of truth. By now the whole police station had to know he was gay. Cops were worse gossips than teenage girls at a slumber party. When McNab had fallen face first into a pile of horse crap during the pursuit of a suspect, everyone had known within a couple of days. Considering how juicy this piece of information was, he suspected most people knew before he even left the building on Friday. He remembered the teasing and jokes McNab had endured after that incident, along with the nickname 'McPoopie.'

If only his own experience promised to be so pleasant.

An officer exited the building, giving Carlton a brief glance as he walked past. Was that the hint of a smirk on his face? It had been too quick a look for Carlton to tell. Was that what everyone thought now? That he was a big joke?

Another person exited, this one not even looking at him as he walked past. Too good to notice the lowly gay cop? Afraid it was contagious?

An officer came up behind him, heading into the building. “Lassiter,” he said, nodding at him, before walking inside. He grunted in response, too busy trying to analyze the tone the man had used. Did he detect a hint of condescension? As if he was better than Carlton?

 _Stop it_ he told himself. _You're being paranoid._ He took a deep breath, trying to dispel some of his anxiety and anger. There was no use worrying about it anymore. It was time to face the music. Besides, he had already been standing out here for five minutes. Any longer and he was going to be late and he really didn't need to give “them” any more ammunition against him.Bracing himself, he opened the door and went inside.

The level of conversation dropped slightly upon his entrance. He walked quickly across the bullpen, heading straight for his desk. It seemed a lot further away than he remembered. He saw more the one person looking unobtrusively at him out of the corner of his eye. Along with a few obvious stares. He tried to ignore them as he walked past.

Harder to ignore were the comments. The whispers and hushed tones seemed to follow him across the room. Talking about him, judging him, drowning out all other sound to the point it was all he could hear. He knew his mind was playing tricks with him, making it seem louder than it was. But he still quickened his pace.

After what seemed like hours he finally reached the relative safety of his desk. He sat down, resisting the sudden urge to crawl under it. He needed to present a strong front, not let them see how their actions were affecting him. He grabbed the first file he could find and flipped it open, trying to look busy. He took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself, before looking at the file he had grabbed.

It was for the robbery case they had wrapped up Thursday afternoon. Spencer had gotten himself involved, as usual, and had 'divined' the culprit in record time. It had also been early enough in the day that Carlton had no excuse to bail on his date that night, which is when the universe started conspiring against him.

He sighed, putting the file down. As far as dates went, it hadn't been a particularly bad one, but it had been obvious there wasn't going to be a second. While this wasn't anything new for him, it still left him in a foul mood the next morning.

Strike one.

He and O'Hara had been stuck finishing the paperwork for the robbery case. Spencer's involvement had meant more paperwork than normal. Enough that he couldn't foist it all off on O'Hara, leaving him stuck at his desk for the majority of the day.

Strike two.

He had been in no mood to talk when O'Hara started pressing him for details about his date. Usually she could read him pretty well, knew when to let things go, but that day she just kept pestering him with questions, voice getting louder and louder. Until eventually someone had overheard enough to figure out his date had been with a man.

Strike three and he was out.

He groaned, rubbing his head. First he was actually considering Spencer's opinions on a subject. Now his brain was making the same lame-ass jokes as the fake psychic. Even when he wasn't around, the man still found ways to annoy the crap out of him, and he would probably come waltzing in later in the day, looking for a case, ready to annoy him some more. Oh joy.

Maybe he could have O'Hara deal with him. God knows she owed him one or two after what happened. Or thousands.

He glanced over at her desk. It didn't look like she had come in yet. It was just as well. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her. Rationally, he knew she hadn't intentionally told his secret. That didn't stop him from feeling betrayed by what had happened though.

“Detective Lassiter?”

Carlton looked up as Officer Buzz McNab walked over. “What is it, McNab?” he asked gruffly.

“The Chief wants to see you in her office,” McNab said, stopping next to his desk. He sounded nervous. “She said it was about a case.” He noticed McNab glancing around the room. Following his gaze, he noticed several officers watching their conversation surreptitiously.

 _I'm sure that's not all we'll be discussing,_ Carlton thought. He was glad the chief was trying to be discrete about it though. “I'll be right there,” he said, standing up. “Get me a cup of coffee while I'm in there.”

“Yes, sir,” McNab said, nodding. He continued to stand there awkwardly, nervously rubbing his hands.

Carlton raised an eyebrow. “Was there something else?” he asked.

McNab cleared his throat hesitantly. “Well, sir. The thing is. . . I just wanted to say. . .” His voice kept trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

Carlton sighed. He did not need to deal with this right now. “Just spit it out already,” he growled.

“I still think you're a great detective,” McNab blurted out. “No matter who you date.” Carlton looked at McNab in surprise as the large officer's face turned bright red. Carlton rubbed his neck as McNab looked away, suddenly becoming fascinated with a potted plant in the corner. Neither man seemed to know what to say after McNab's statement.

“I'll just go get you your coffee then,” McNab said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. Carlton nodded as McNab quickly escaped to the break room.

 _Well, that was unexpected_ Carlton thought. It seemed he still had one person in the department who still supported him. He heard renewed whispers across the room and knew the exchange had not gone unnoticed. He wondered what the rumor mill would make of this. Ignoring the curious looks, he headed into the chief's office.

Vick glanced up when he entered the room. “Shut the door,” she said before returning to the files on her desk.

He did, then walked over to stand in front of her desk. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Have a seat.” She organized the papers on her desk, then sat there a moment, looking at him. “How are you, Carlton?” she asked finally.

“Fine,” he said shortly.

“I know what happened Friday couldn't have been easy,” she said delicately. “If you would like to talk to someone, I could set up an appointment –“

“That won't be necessary,” Carlton said quickly. The last thing he needed right now was for word to get out that he had met with the department shrink. He had lost enough respect already.

“Just remember, my door is always open,” Vick said amicably. She pulled a file out of the stack on her desk. “This was the other reason I called you in here.” She handed the file over to him. “19 year old Emily Rose was found strangled to death in her dorm room,” she said as he glanced over the file. “The roommate, one Sarah Parker, found her this morning. She was out of town for the weekend and last saw Emily Friday night. We'll have to wait for the ME's report to narrow down time of death.”

“I'll get started right away,” Carlton said, standing up.

“Just a moment,” Vick said, stopping him. “I need to ask you about Detective O'Hara.”

He slowly sat back down. “What about her?” he asked cautiously.

“I need to know that what happened between you two isn't going to affect doing your job,” Vick said bluntly. “If it's an issue, I can temporarily assign you a new partner.” She looked at him, waiting for a response.

Carlton sighed. He wouldn't lie, the thought had crossed his mind. But his new partner might not be happy working with a gay cop. O'Hara he could still trust to watch his back, however strained the rest of their partnership might be. That plus her admittedly good detective skills made her the best choice for a partner in the department, despite what had happened. “It won't be an issue,” he said quietly.

“Good,” Vick said, nodding. “I'll expect a report by the end of the day.” She turned back to her paperwork as he got up and left.

While he was in Vick's office, O'Hara had arrived. She was hovering around his desk, looking anxious.

“Look, Carlton,” she started.

“We have a case,” he said, cutting her off. He handed her the file. “Chief wants to see progress by the end of the day.” He sat down at his desk, turning his computer on.

O'Hara continued to hover nervously. “I really think we should talk,” she said quietly.

“No more talking,” he said sharply. “It's what got me into the mess in the first place.”

“Okay,” she said meekly. She turned and walked slowly over to her own desk.

He watched her go, suppressing a sigh. He hadn't meant to lash out at her. He knew she was just trying to make things right, but not everything has an easy fix. It would take time before he could trust her again. Until then, they had a job to do and he would have to keep himself under better control if he wanted them to continue working together. He would not let his personal life affect his job anymore than it already had.

“Here's your coffee,” McNab said, handing him a steaming cup.

“Thanks,” Carlton said absentmindedly, still looking after O'Hara.

“I think she's really sorry for what happened,” McNab said.

“You think I don't know that?” Carlton snapped.

McNab held his hands up, taking a step back. “I'm just trying to help.” Looking faintly hurt, he walked away.

Carlton groaned, putting his head in his hands. Great. He had just driven off probably the only two people at the station that he could count on to support him in all this. He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

He heard a hushed whisper, then a snicker from across the room. Yup, definitely a long day.

* * *

Gus shook his head, looking over at Shawn. “There's no way.”

The two of them were walking up the front steps of the police station. “It's true, man,” Shawn said. “Lassiter's gay.”

“But he was married,” Gus argued.

“So was Elton John,” Shawn said.

“He dated his last partner,” Gus said pointed out. “I'm pretty sure she was a woman.”

“Fine, then he swings both ways,” Shawn said with exasperation. “The point is that he dates dudes.”

“This is a joke, right?” Gus asked, eyeing Shawn suspiciously.

“No joke. Apparently the whole station knows,” Shawn said. He couldn't understand why Gus was having such a hard time believing him. Sure he lied sometimes. Ok, he lied a lot. But Gus should know by now when he was telling the truth.

Gus seemed to think about it as they walked inside the building. “The whole station?” he asked finally.

“I'll prove it,” Shawn said. He walked over to the first person in uniform he saw. “Hey, did you here about Lassiter?” he asked.

“Yeah, what a shame,” the female cop said. “It's always the hot ones that turn out to be gay.” Shaking her head, she walked away.

Shawn turned to Gus. “See?”

“First, that was disturbing on several levels,” Gus said. “Second, really? He's really gay?”

“Look,” Shawn said, pulling Gus aside. He lowered his voice so no one could overhear them. “You're going to be cool about this, right? Because he can probably use all the support he can get right now. He doesn't need you acting all freaky around him.” He looked at Gus worriedly. His friend meant well but could sometimes make matters indefinitely worse by trying to be nice.

“You're the one who constantly makes jokes at his expense and tries to make him look incompetent at his job,” Gus said defensively. “Are you going to stop doing that?”

“Of course not,” Shawn said. “What Lassie needs most right now is routine. If I didn't act that way, it would just make him more uncomfortable. We have to show him that nothing is different now that we know he's gay.”

“Nothing at all?” Gus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, Gus. Please?” Shawn asked, putting on his most pitiful look.

Gus sighed in defeat. “OK. Fine. I'll try to treat him the same.” He shook his head. “Though I don't see why you're trying to be so nice to him. He still hates you.”

“'Hate' is such a strong word,” Shawn said. “I would put it at more of a strong dislike. Similar to how I feel about my father or people who talk through an entire movie –“

“You do that,” Gus muttered.

Shawn pressed on as if Gus hadn't said anything. “Not how I feel about Justin Bieber or that weird lint you find at the bottom of your pocket.”

“Whatever Shawn,” Gus said. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Let's do this.”

“We're just going to talk to him, not march into battle,” Shawn said, rolling his eyes. “Relax and follow my lead.” He walked casually over to Lassiter's desk, Gus trailing behind.

Lassiter was hunched over, avoiding eye contact with everyone around him. Looking at him, Shawn realized just how much this whole being outed thing was affecting him. His posture was clearly defensive, making him appear weak instead of the strong, forceful detective Shawn was used to. It made him all the more determined to go through with his plan.

“Hey Lassiekins” Shawn said, standing next to him. “Stuck on another case? Good thing we're here to help.”

“Spencer, just go away,” Lassiter said wearily. He sounded like he had already given in, and he still wouldn't look up from the file in front of him.

“But I promised Gus you would have a case for us,” Shawn said, pouting. He sat down on the edge of Lassiter's desk. “He took the whole day off from work and everything. Tell him, Gus.” He looked at Gus expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lassiter, hi,” Gus said nervously. “Nice weather we're having.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. He should have known Gus couldn't act normal. The man was one of the worst liars he had ever seen. “See? All the disappointment is making him sound crazy.”

Lassiter sighed, finally looking up. “Are you sure that isn't exposure to you?” There was a spark in his eyes and he was sitting up a little straighter.

“Why Lassie, was that a joke?” Shawn asked, pleased. That was more like the Lassiter he was used to. “Gus has been my best friend for years. He's immune to me.” He reached over and grabbed the file Lassiter had been looking at. “Now let's see what we have.”

“Drop it Spencer,” Lassiter said, making a grab for the file.

Shawn stood up and took a couple steps back out of reach. He glanced through the file quickly. “College girl found dead in her dorm room,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Nasty business.”

Lassiter got up and stalked over to Shawn. “Give me that,” he said, wrenching the file from his grasp. “You're not assigned to this case.”

“But I could be,” Shawn said. “In fact.” He put his hand to his temple. “I think I'm getting something.” He closed his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “Oh yes, I'm definitely getting something.”

“I don't need your help,” Lassiter growled. He walked back to his desk, slamming the file down.

“Aww, does the big ole head detective need help on a case,” said a voice behind them. Turning, Shawn saw Officer Jackson approaching, Officers Milton and Jones on his heels. “What's the matter Lassiter? Not _man_ enough to solve the case on your own?”

“That's Detective Lassiter to you, Jackson,” Lassiter said, voice full of loathing. Clearly there was no love lost between the two men. “And Spencer was just leaving.”

“That's right, run along, psychic,” Jackson said. “Wouldn't want to catch gay now would you?” He laughed at his own joke, Milton and Jones joining in.

Shawn heard a couple of sniggers behind him. Clearly this conversation had become the focus of the police station. Lassiter had heard the sniggers too. Shawn could see the anger dimming in his eyes, replaced by uncertainty. Shawn knew he had to step in fast, before Lassiter lost his confidence. He quickly thought back to everything he had observed about Jackson on his last few visits to the station. An interesting fact popped up, causing him to grin. “Everyone knows gay isn't contagious,” he said jauntily, stepping closer to Jackson. “Gonorrhea, on the other hand, is very contagious.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jackson said calmly. A nervous twitch of his eyes, however, told Shawn he was right on track.

“What did your wife say when you told her?” Shawn asked, baiting him. “Were you cheating on her with another woman? Or was she cheating on you?” He could tell by Jackson's reaction that it was the wife who had been unfaithful. “That must have been an interesting conversation.”

“You better knock it off, psychic, before someone gets hurt,” Jackson said, getting into Shawn's face.

Shawn took a step back, waving a hand in front of his face. “Dude, you really need a TicTac or something, cause your breath stinks,” he said, scrunching his nose.

Several coughs and a few snickers were heard around the room. Jackson's face turned bright red when he realized he was the joke now. “This isn't over, psychic,” he told Shawn threateningly. He stalked away, Milton and Jones following him.

“Looks like you just made a new enemy,” Lassiter observed. He was standing next to his desk, arms crossed, looking at Shawn curiously. Around them, now that the show was over, the rest of the station was getting back to work.

Shawn took a step closer to Lassiter. “Then I'd say you owe me,” he said, grinning. “Let me in on the case?”

“Fine,” Lassiter growled, though with less force than usual. “O'Hara was checking with the ME to get the preliminary findings on the body. I'll get her and meet you outside.” He stalked off through the station.

Gus sidled over to Shawn. “Dude, what were you thinking? That cop looked like he wanted to kill you.”

“Please,” Shawn said derisively. “No way was he going to attack me in the middle of the police station. Too many witnesses.” He watched Lassiter head down the stairs toward the morgue. “Besides, he deserved it.”

“I hope you know what you're doing, Shawn,” Gus said, looking at his friend worriedly.

“Don't worry,” Shawn said, clapping him on the back. “You saw how Lassiter was when we came in. Now look at him. All full of fire and purpose. Though no thanks to you.” He left Gus standing there as he headed for the door.

“I thought I did my part perfectly,” Gus said, catching up to Shawn as he left the station.

“Please, the only way it could have been more awkward is if you weren't wearing pants,” Shawn said. “And then only slightly.”

Gus glared at him before storming off to get his car.

Shawn took a moment to consider his plan. He hadn't told Gus about it, because his friend would think he was crazy. But he couldn't just ignore this new information about the striking Irish detective. Not when it meant he might finally have a chance.

So far, step one was going well. He had managed to get on the case; more easily than he had expected in fact. Now they two of them would be working together the next few days. If all went well, he could implement step two by the end of the week.

Lassiter exited the building, Juliet in tow. She looked a little subdued and Shawn noticed the distance separating the two detectives. “Where's Guster?” Lassiter asked.

On cue, Gus pulled up in front of them. “Right here,” Shawn said. “You lead, we'll follow?”

Lassiter nodded, before heading over to his own car with O'Hara.

Shawn climbed in next to Gus and the pair followed the detectives away from the station.


	4. Relationship Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short but this scene didn't really fit with the ones before or after it. So it gets to be on its own.  
> Enjoy.

“What are the odds?” Spencer asked.

“Don't you ever shut up?” Carlton asked wearily as they entered the police station. Over the past few days he had gotten used to the stares and now just ignored them.

They had just wrapped up the murder of the college roommate. O'Hara was bringing in the killer, which left Carlton the job of bringing Spencer back to the station to get his statement. The psychic had spent the entire car ride talking. Carlton was surprised blood wasn't pouring from his ears.

“I mean it Lassie,” Spencer said, turning to him. “What are the odds? The first case you get after everyone finds out you're gay and it involves lesbians? Isn't that irony or something?” He grinned at Carlton, clearly finding the situation immensely amusing.

Carlton sighed. He had been wondering the same thing. It turned out the two roommates were lovers, a fact they had been keeping secret from their friends and family. Except then Emily had decided maybe she wasn't a lesbian after all and started dating one of the football players. When Sarah found out, she had killed Emily in a jealous rage, then left the body to 'find' when she returned from her trip Monday morning.

Spencer had 'divined' all of it this morning after dragging them down to the girls' dorm room. After hearing him explain her crime to the police, Sarah had snapped and attacked Spencer with a waffle iron. Carlton had managed to get it away from her before she could do too much damage. “How's your head?” he asked.

Spencer gingerly touched his head where Sarah had managed to hit him before Carlton disarmed her. “Sore. The bleeding seems to have stopped though.” He held up his hand for Carlton to inspect, clearly free of any bodily fluids. “And I barely hear the ringing in my ears anymore.”

Carlton rolled his eyes. “You really should have gone to the hospital to get checked out.” He sat down at his desk and started pulling together the paperwork Spencer had to fill out.

Spencer sat down on the corner of the desk. Carlton hated when he did that but Spencer just ignored his glare. “But then you would have missed out on my company riding back to the station.”

“I think I would have survived,” he said dryly. He handed Spencer the forms. “Fill these out and you can leave.”

Spencer pouted. “Trying to get rid of me already? Are my charming good looks too distracting for the female officers?” He struck a pose that Carlton supposed he thought made him look attractive. He noticed Spencer had more muscle tone than his lifestyle of junk food and video games would suggest.

With years of practice, Carlton put a stop to those thoughts. “Just get to work, Spencer.”

“But I don't have anything to write with,” Spencer whined.

Carlton grabbed a pen off his desk. “Here,” he said, giving it to him. “I expect it back when you're done.”

Spencer examined the pen. “Oooo! Can I have a blue one?” he asked. “I feel my words will look nicer against the page in blue. Black, not so much.”

“Spencer,” Carlton growled. He could feel a headache forming from having to put up with the inane chatter all morning. Enough was enough.

Spencer sighed heavily. “Fine, I guess I can make do with the black one.” He grabbed the forms and moved off to an empty desk to work on them. “I hope you know this won't be even close to my best work,” he called out.

Carlton shook his head, getting together his own paperwork. At least the forms would keep Spencer occupied for awhile, and quiet. His ears could use the rest. He worked quickly, trying to get as much of the hated paperwork done before the next distraction came along.

“What's this I hear about lesbians, Lassiter?” a voice said behind him.

Carlton sighed. _Speaking of distractions_ he thought. Turning, he saw Jackson standing there with a smug look on his face, Milton and Jones right behind him.

“It was a case,” he said shortly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spencer look up from his forms, watching them carefully.

“I guess that's why the chief gave it to you,” Jackson said, smirking. “Let the freak deal with his own kind so the rest of us can do real police work.” As if on cue, Milton and Jones both chuckled.

“Like arresting the wrong suspect in the gas station robberies?” Carlton asked. He grinned when Jackson's face flushed. “I heard you brought the roommate in by mistake. They still haven't found the real suspect.”

“You better watch yourself, Lassiter,” Jackson threatened. “Keep talking like that and someone's going to get hurt.”

Carlton made a show of checking his watch. “Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but some of us have cases to work on. So if you'll excuse me.” He collected the files on his desk and stood up.Ignoring Jackson, he walked towards the records room.

“This isn't over Lassiter,” he heard Jackson call after him. He smiled to himself, absurdly pleased he had reduced Jackson to empty threats. He had been dealing with his crap all week. It felt good to finally strike back.

Carlton bypassed the records room, heading for the interrogation rooms. They should be empty right now and it would give him a quiet place to finish his report. He went inside the first room and sat down facing the door, glad to find it empty. He opened the file, trying to figure out what he had left.

Most of it would require his computer upstairs, but he could get started on his own statement.

He was just getting started when he heard the door open. He looked up to see Spencer enter the room. He sighed. So much for his peace and quiet.

“Lassie, there you are,” Spencer said, walking over to him. “I thought you might have gotten lost in the bowels of the police station. I was getting ready to get together a search party.” He grabbed the chair across from Carlton and turned it around, resting his arms on the back of it as he sat down. “I was going to get one of those scent dogs to track you down and everything.”He paused. “Though I suppose I can still borrow the dog to find out where Gus keeps hiding all the snacks at the office.”

“What do you want, Spencer?” Carlton asked.

Spencer held up his paperwork. “All finished.” He frowned at the papers. “Though it would have been better in blue.”

“Put them there,” Carlton said, pointing to a spot on the table. He waited for Spencer to put the files down before holding out his hand. “My pen?” he asked pointedly.

“Right,” Spencer said. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Here you go.”

Carlton dropped it as soon as it hit his hand. “It's wet,” he said with disgust. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off his hand.

Spencer shrugged. “I chew on the end of my pen when I'm thinking,” he said unapologetically.

Carlton used the handkerchief to push the pen towards Spencer. “Keep it,” he said. “I'd probably get rabies from it or something.”

Spencer looked offended. “I'll have you know I'm up to date on all my shots.”

Carlton rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. Now get out.”

Spencer pouted. “But Lassie. . .”

“I'm busy, Spencer,” Carlton said. He pointed at the door. “There's the door. Use it.” He bent his head and started working on his statement again, acting as if Spencer wasn't even there. He hoped if he ignored the psychic for long enough, Spencer would get bored and find someone else to annoy.

He could feel Spencer's eyes watching him. It was a decidedly unsettling feeling. After a few minutes, the man sighed, loudly. Carlton refused to look up.

Spencer fidgeted in his chair, the scrapping sounds echoing in the small room. He still didn't look up.

Spencer started to whistle, probably some awful but popular pop song, the sound immediately putting Carlton on edge.

He threw down his pen and glared at the psychic. “What?” he growled.

“You know, you really shouldn't let things bother you so much, Lassie,” Spencer said with a smug grin. “You got to relax and enjoy life. Live a little. Which is why you should come to the bar with me, Gus, and Jules tonight to celebrate another successful closing of a case.”

“No,” Carlton said shortly. He grabbed his pen and tried to once again focus on his statement.

“It'll be fun,” Spencer said.

“No.”

“But Jules really wanted you to come,” Spencer whined. “It was all her idea.”

That made him pause. O'Hara had been trying to mend things between them over the past week. She brought in fresh coffee and muffins every day and volunteered to finish all his paperwork. Still, it would mean a night spent in Spencer's company.

“Please Lassie,” Spencer said, using his best puppy dog look. “Please come out drinking with us. I promise if you get drunk again I'll have Gus give you a ride home.”

Carlton sighed. “If I say yes, will you let me get back to work.”

Spencer seemed to think about it. “Maybe.”

It was probably the best he could get. “Fine, I'll go,” he said reluctantly.

“Great,” Spencer said, leaping out of the chair. “Tom Blair's, 7 o'clock. Don't be late.” He sauntered to the door, pausing to look back before leaving the room. “By the way, nice job with Jackson. It was almost as good as something I would have said.” He gave Carlton a grin and left.

Carlton took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He was already starting to regret his decision to go. He still had time to find a way to get out of it, if he wanted to. He knew he wouldn't though. He couldn't afford to alienate O'Hara more than he already had. She was one of the few people who would still work comfortably with him.

_And Spencer is another_ his treacherous brain reminded him. He quickly shut that thought down. Spencer was nothing but a nuisance. O'Hara was his partner. As upset with her as he was at the moment, they needed to find a way to work together. If that meant going to a bar for awkward small talk and overpriced drinks, so be it. He'd go, have a couple of drinks, and duck out as early as he could.

Satisfied with his plan, he buckled down to finish the report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is half written and I should have it done for next week. It will be a long chapter and will involve alcohol and Juliet telling a story.


	5. A Tale of Two Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last of the regular updates. Real life and my Thanksgiving story are going to keep me busy the next couple of weeks. I will try to get the next chapter up soon. I made this one extra long to make up for it.  
> Plus it was super fun to right.  
> Enjoy.

Juliet got to the bar early. She glanced around but it didn't look like anyone else had arrived yet. She made her way through the light weeknight crowd to the bar to order a drink while she waited for the others. She drummed her fingers nervously against the counter as the bartender prepared it.

This would be her first time spending time with Carlton without the buffer of work between them since the 'incident.'Things had been uncomfortable between the two of them all week. He refused to talk to her unless it was directly related to their cases. Not that she blamed him. The last time they had talked about anything personal she had accidentally outed him to the whole police station. He had a right not to trust her anymore. Still, she hated the tension between them. She wished there was something she could do to fix things, but without a time machine, she would just have to wait until he decided to forgive her.

“Ma'am? Your drink?”

Juliet looked up, startled. The bartender had returned with her drink while she had been lost in thought and was now looking at her pointedly. She flushed. “Sorry,” she said, paying for her drink. He just shook his head and moved on to the next customer.

Stepping away from the bar, she sipped her strawberry daiquiri as she looked around the room. When Shawn had suggested they all go out to celebrate solving the case, he had insisted they come to this bar. They usually went to the local cop bar, but with everything going on with Carlton at work that wasn't an option. Juliet knew Carlton frequented this bar, since it was close to his home, and suspected that was why Shawn had chosen it. It gave the detective one less excuse for refusing to join them. It seemed like a nice place; a little old fashioned for her but it suited Carlton perfectly.

The crowd was light tonight but the booths and tables were filling up fast. She spotted a booth in the corner that would give them some privacy without being completely removed from the crowd. They would also be able to see almost the entire bar from there, something Carlton would appreciate. She wound her way through the tables to the booth, just beating a young couple to the corner. “Sorry, seats taken,” she said, sliding in. She gave the woman a challenging look, raising an eyebrow, daring her to say anything. The woman looked like she wanted to make a fight for it but her date just shrugged and led her off to another booth. She let herself feel a small sense of victory as she sipped her drink. It was juvenile, sure, but her ego could use the boost tonight.

Shawn and Gus arrived a few minutes later. They paused by the door, looking around for her and Carlton. She waved at them until she got Shawn's attention. He grinned and gave her a thumbs up to show he saw her then turned to Gus. He said something to him, pointing to the bar, then clapped Gus on the back. Gus just crossed his arms and looked at Shawn, clearly not agreeing with whatever his friend had said. Shawn leaned over and said something else, giving Gus his saddest puppy dog look. Juliet grinned. Shawn only used that look when he really wanted something and he could be very persuasive. Gus looked over at her, then back to Shawn. Shawn's look must have worked, because he sighed and walked over to the growing crowd surrounding the bar.

Shawn weaved his way through the tables, heading over to the booth where Juliet was sitting. “Hey Jules,” he said, sliding in across from her. “I see you started without us.” He looked at her drink and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

She flushed slightly. “I was a little nervous,” she admitted. “Carlton has barely said a word to me all week.” She looked down, toying with her drink. “Maybe this wasn't a good idea.”

“First off, it was my idea so that automatically makes it a good one – nah a great one,” he said. “Second, Lassie's been so stressed at work he's barely talking to anyone. And third, quit worrying so much, you'll get those little crease marks in your forehead.”

She nodded, still staring down at the table. “Juliet, look at me,” Shawn said. She looked up to see him looking at her intently. “It was an accident. Stop beating yourself up about it.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “He'll get over it.”

“Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully.

“Of course I'm sure,” he said confidently. He put a hand to his temple. “Psychic remember? Besides, I've told loads of Gus's secrets over the years and we're still friends.”

“Were any of them this big?” Juliet asked.

“Well,” he said, considering. “Does telling everyone that you wore your sister's underwear to school because all yours were in the laundry count?”

“No,” she said. She looked at Shawn speculatively. “Did that really happen?”

He grinned at her. “You can ask Gus and find out.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. Shawn always knew what to say to cheer her up.

“That's my girl,” he said, smiling back. “Now, any sign of your grumpy old partner yet?”

“Carlton is not old,” she said, defending her partner.

“Old isn't always a bad thing. Means you have more experience,” Shawn pointed out. “Though I notice you didn't argue on the grumpy part.”

“I haven't seen him yet. He was still at the station doing paperwork when I left,” she said.

Shawn sighed. “That man really needs to get his priorities straight. Who chooses paperwork over drinks with friends?” He shook his head. “He really needs to get out more.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show up,” she said. “He's not exactly getting along with any of us right now.”

“Jules, I told you, everything will be fine,” Shawn said. “And he will show up. He said he would. Carlton Lassiter does not go back on his word.” He paused, considering. “Though he may show up as late as possible and ditch as soon as he can, he will at least show up. For a few minutes anyway.”

“Very reassuring Shawn,” she said dryly.

“So,” he said slowly. “Since we may be waiting awhile anyway.” He glanced around quickly and leaned over the table towards Juliet. “I've been meaning to ask you something.”

“What is it?” she asked, unconsciously matching Shawn's quiet tone and leaning in closer to him.

He grinned slyly at her. “How did you find out Carlton is gay?”

She leaned back. “That's none of your business,” she said crisply.

“Come on,” he complained. “Everyone already knows the big secret. This is just a little side secret. Not even a real secret. More like an anecdote.”

“Shawn,” Juliet said wearily.

Gus arrived at the table, holding two drinks. “You owe me,” he said to Shawn, placing some kind of fruity drink down in front of him. Juliet thought she saw a chunk of pineapple floating in it. He tried to sit next to Shawn with his own drink but Shawn blocked him.

“Sit next to Jules.”

“Why?” Gus asked.

“I think Lassie would be more comfortable not sitting next to her right now,” he said, giving her an apologetic look. She tried not to let it bother her. Shawn was probably right.

“Then why don't you sit next to her?” Gus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because you haven't been able to look Lassie straight in the face all week,” Shawn explained. “He doesn't need you being all twitchy next to him all night.”

“I _don't_ twitch,” Gus said, affronted. He gave Shawn a long, considering look before nodding. Juliet stood up and let Gus take the inside seat next to her.

“Thanks man,” Shawn said.

Gus just rolled his eyes. “So what were you talking about?”

“Juliet was just about to tell us how she first found out Lassie is gay,” Shawn said. Gus turned to look at her, clearly interested.

“It's not that interesting a story,” she said.

“Oh, that means it's got to be good,” Shawn said excitedly. “Please Jules.” He gave her his best puppy dog look, the same one he had used on Gus earlier.

She sighed. “Fine.” She took a sip of her drink, collecting her thoughts. “Remember that guy from forensics I went on a date with a couple of months ago?”

“The guy where you begged me to call you so you could ditch him?” Shawn asked.

Juliet nodded. “The story starts that night. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“_ _So_ _Carlo_ _and_ _Maria_ _had this torrid affair 10 years ago. This wasn't explicitly said on the show of course but they did imply some kind of history between the two of them. And, you know, writer's_ _prerogative._ _Anyway, that leads to problems when he starts seeing_ _Maria_ _'s best friend_ _Angela_ _, who has no idea about their past. Now, on the show she's dating Luca but I figure I can get around that. You see. . .”_

_Kevin_ _started going into his elaborate plan to get_ _Angela_ _single. Juliet nodded politely,_ _stifling a yawn_ _._ _He_ _had been talking about his story since they got to the restaurant. From what she understood, it was a fan story for some obscure Italian TV show she had never heard of._ _She let her eyes wander the restaurant, wondering if anyone else was having as horrible a date as her._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Medici di Amore.”

Juliet looked at Shawn. “What?”

“The show he was writing about? It's called Medici di Amore.” Shawn shook his head. “Not bad, but if you're into Italian medical dramas I recommend Ospedale Cuore.”

“How did you even hear of those shows?” Gus asked.

“I stayed with an Italian family in New Mexico for three months,” Shawn said. He shrugged. “The mother was addicted to day time Italian soaps.” He turned to Juliet. “But Carlo and Angela? That is so predictable. Why not try something daring like Carlo and Luca?”

“Because most guys don't write gay stories,” Gus said.

Shawn eyed him thoughtfully. “And exactly how do you know this?”

“ _Guys_ , do you want to hear the story or not?” Juliet asked.

“Sorry Jules,” Shawn said, getting back on track. “I believe you were telling us what a horrible date you were having?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _“_ _Juliet, are you listening?”_

_She snapped her gaze back to Kevin. “Yes, of course I am,” she lied. “It all sounds really fascinating.”_

_“You really think so?” he asked with enthusiasm. “Because most people don't want to listen to me talk about my stories.”_

_I can't imagine why, Juliet thought sarcastically. Out loud she said, “You're clearly very passionate about them.”_

_Kevin beamed at her. “I knew you would understand. How about I read you a passage from my latest story?” He reached down next to his chair and started digging through the bag he had brought with him. “I should have it in here somewhere.”_

_“Wonderful,” Juliet said with a forced smile. “Listen, while you look for that, I'm going to run to the ladies' room. I wouldn't want to have to interrupt you in the middle of your story.”_

_“Of course, go ahead,” Kevin said, bringing his bag into his lap. He started emptying the contents onto the table, muttering to himself._

_Juliet got up quickly and walked towards the rest rooms. Once she was out of sight, she pulled out her phone and dialed the one person she hoped could get her out of this mess. Though in retrospect she should have seen it coming. Kevin had a man-purse, for crying out loud._

_As she waited for Shawn to answer, she eyes wandered over the restaurant. She stopped when she recognized a familiar face in the far corner of the room. Carlton was having dinner with a man Juliet didn't recognize. She frowned slightly. Her partner hadn't mentioned meeting anyone tonight. She wondered what it was about._

_Shawn finally answered the phone, interrupting Juliet's thoughts. “Jules! To what do I owe the pleasure of your call on this fine evening.”_

_“Hi Shawn,” Juliet said, taking a deep breath. “I need your help with something.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lassie was on a date, wasn't he?” Shawn said excitedly. “That's how you knew he was gay, because you saw him getting all cozy with that dude in the restaurant.”

“Shawn, let her tell the story,” Gus said.

“But I already know this part,” Shawn whined. “This is when Jules calls me to rescue her from Ian. Let's skip it and get to the good stuff.”

“It's Mark,” Gus corrected. “And I haven't heard any of this yet.”

“His name was Kevin,” Juliet said, exasperated. “And please stop interrupting Shawn.”

“As you wish, Pagemaster,” Shawn said, bowing from his seat.

Juliet rolled her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _“_ _My help? Why would you need my help while you_ _'_ _r_ _e_ _on a date?” Shawn asked._

_Juliet frowned. “How did you know I'm on a date?”_

_“Juliet, please. I'm psychic, remember?” Shawn said teasingly. “_ _I'm sensing that the date isn't going well.”_

_“It's a disaster,” Juliet said. “The only thing he's talked about all nigh is a story he's writing about some obscure Italian TV show.”_

_“Which one?” Shawn asked._

_“Something about doctors, I think,” Juliet said. “He wants to read me part of his story. I need you to wait five minutes, then call me so I can get the hell out of here.”_

_“What's my motivation?”_

_“What?”_

_“Why am I calling you? Is it work related, or personal? How well do we know each other? Oooo, I could do an accent,” he said, voice rising with excitement. “Do you think my character has an accent? I bet he does. I'm thinking something European, maybe British. Though I could pull off Chinese if you want a more Asian feel.”_

_“It doesn't matter,” Juliet said, cutting him off. “I just need you to call my phone so I can answer it and tell Kevin I have to leave. You don't actually have to say anything.”_

_She could practically feel Shawn pouting over the phone. “That doesn't sound like nearly as much fun.”_

_She sighed. “Just call me in five minutes, OK?”_

_“Can do,” Shawn said cheerfully._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Juliet glared at Shawn. “Knock it off.”

“I wasn't doing anything,” he said innocently.

“You were mouthing the words of the entire conversation,” she said.

“I told you, I already know this part. I'm bored,” he whined.

“Gus?” she asked, hoping his best friend might know a way to control him.

Gus shook his head. “It could be worse. Trust me.”

She didn't doubt him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Juliet ended the call and sighed. Normally she hated women who would fake a phone call to get out of a date. She usually just toughed it out and made it obvious at the end of the night there wouldn't be a second one. Now she knew what motivated those women. She would rather deal with the guilt of ditching him than spend an entire evening hearing about a made-up love triangle for a TV show nobody watches._

_Kevin was flipping through a notebook when she returned to the table. “I don't usually let people see my unfinished work, but for you I'm willing to make an exception.”_

_“Wonderful.” She hoped Shawn called soon._

_Kevin found the passage he was looking for. He cleared his throat dramatically and started to read. “It was a calm night at the hospital. Carlo and Maria were working alone on the third floor. Everything seemed calm, but Carlo didn't know that Maria was on to his secret. And she wasn't happy about it. It was time to get her revenge.”_

_Despite a somewhat interesting beginning, Juliet quickly found her self losing interest in the story. She just nodded politely or smiled whenever he looked up at her. She resisted the urge to look at her watch. It had to have been five minutes already. Where the hell was Shawn?_

_Finally, after what seemed like hours, her cell phone rang._

_“Hold on one second,” she said, digging out the phone. She frowned down at the screen, faking concern. “It's work. I should answer it.”_

_Kevin nodded as Juliet answered the phone. “O'Hara.”_

_“Hello detective. This is Major General Lance Armani,” Shawn said with a thick southern accent. “I have a matter of national security of the highest level and you are the only one who can help me.”_

_She fought hard to keep from rolling her eyes. “You need me to come in. Now?”_

_“Come on Jules. The least you can do is play along,” Shawn whined._

_“No. I understand. It's very important,” she said, ignoring Shawn. She covered the phone with one hand. “It looks like I'm going to have to go,” she told Kevin._

_“Uh huh,” he said. “Of course you do.”_

_“It's a really important case,” she said._

_“It always is, isn't it?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”_

_“Well. . .,” she said, hesitating._

_“Give him the phone.”_

_“One moment,” she said, holding up a hand. She half turned in the seat and hissed into the phone. “Why do you want to talk to him?”_

_“It's obvious he's not buying it. He's probably had dozens of dates pull the same move on him. If you want to keep things from getting too weird between you to at work, let me talk to him,” Shawn explained._

_“I never said we work together,” she said._

_“Once again, I am psychic,” Shawn said. “Trust me, give him the phone.”_

_She looked over at Kevin. She didn't know how much of the exchange he had heard, but he was still looking at her suspiciously. She didn't have much of a choice. Either she could let Shawn try to fix this, or she had to tell the truth._

_“OK, I'll let you speak to him,” she said, handing Kevin the phone. She really hoped Shawn knew what he was doing._

_“Hello?” Kevin asked. She couldn't hear what Shawn was saying, but Kevin's eyes suddenly widened and he shot her a fearful look. “Really? I didn't think that was possible.” He continued to listen attentively to whatever Shawn was saying, giving her odd looks every so often. “Of course you need her. This is a very serious situation.”_

_She breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like Shawn's plan was working._

_Whatever Shawn said next caused his face to go pale. “O-of course. I understand.” Kevin hung up the phone and carefully handed it back to her. “Juliet, I'm sorry I doubted you.”_

_“It's OK,” she said. “I'm sorry this couldn't work out.” She started to stand up to leave, when Kevin stopped her with a touch on her arm._

_“Be careful. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you,” he said seriously._

_“I'll do my best,” she said, wondering what the hell Shawn had said to him._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Juliet looked at Shawn.

“What? I didn't say anything this time.”

“What did you tell Kevin on the phone?” she asked.

“Oh, that,” Shawn said dismissively. “Nothing really. I just convinced him you really needed to leave, that's all.”

Her eyes narrowed at his suspiciously innocent grin. “I'm not buying it Shawn. What did you say?”

Shawn sighed. “All right, fine. I sensed that the show he wrote stories about was Medici di Amore. I remembered there was this crazy contagious disease that kept popping up called pox viola. You get these ugly purple spots all over your body and start seeing orange raccoons everywhere.” He shuddered dramatically. “I don't know what part is worse.”

“Shawn has an irrational fear of raccoons,” Gus explained.

“It's not irrational. Just look into their beady little eyes. That's pure evil staring back at you,” Shawn argued.

“What does this have to do with what you told Kevin?” Juliet asked, getting them back on track.

“I said I was from the CDD and one of Juliet's latest cases involved this disease. She needed to brief us immediately on it before the disease spread,” Shawn said.

“I think you meant the CDC, the Center for Disease Control,” Gus said.

“Really? Then that makes him even more gullible. I mean, who believes in a disease you can cure by drinking lots of diet peach Snapple?” Shawn asked, shaking his head.

“Is that why someone delivered six cases to my house?” Juliet asked.

“He must have been worried about you. Usually you only need to drink three,” Shawn said.

“He also missed work for a week. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?” she asked.

“I may have said something about how he may have been exposed and it would be best to quarantine himself,” Shawn said.

“He almost got fired,” she said.

“But it worked, right?” Shawn said.

She sighed. “Yes, it worked,” she conceded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Juliet walked quickly_ _away from the table_ _, tucking her phone back into her purse. It was times like these where she was glad she had a friend like Shawn._

 _S_ _he noticed a man talking on a cell phone heading in_ _her direction. As he got closer, she realized it was the same man she saw having dinner with Carlton earlier. He glanced back quickly, then ended his call and pocketed his phone._

_They reached the door at the same time. He opened it, gesturing for her to go first._

_“Thank you.” She walked out the door,_ _then stopped and turned to look at him, curiosity getting the best of her._ _“I guess the meeting's over.”_

_The man looked at her, startled. “What meeting?”_

_“With Carlton. Sorry, this must sound weird. I'm his partner, Juliet O'Hara,” she explained._ _She gave him a warm smile, trying to put him at ease._

 _“Business meeting, right,” the man said slowly._ _He glanced at the restaurant, then back at Juliet._ _“Look, I_ _'m kind of in a hurry_ _. Tell Carlton it's nothing personal, I just don't think this is going to work.” Before_ _she_ _could ask anything else, the man walked_ _away, presumably towards his car._

_“Strange,” she muttered to herself. She would have to ask Carlton about it tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and pretend this date never happened. She walked quickly to her car and headed home._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No matter who it is, Lassie just sucks at dating,” Shawn said.

“Shawn,” Juliet snapped.

“I'm just saying what we're all thinking,” Shawn said defensively. “The guy does not hold the best track record with relationships.”

“And you do?” Gus asked.

“Touch-e, Gus,” Shawn said.

“It's pronounced touché. The accent mark changes the [e] sound to an [a] sound,” Gus said.

“How do you know that?” Shawn asked.

“It's common knowledge,” Gus said with a shrug.

“Anyway,” Juliet said loudly, glaring at both of them, “that was the end of my date. I didn't think much about seeing Carlton at the restaurant until the next morning. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Carlton seemed to be in an exceptionally bad mood that morning. He had snapped at Foster for bumping into him on his way back to the records room, yelled at the file clerk when he took too long collecting the files, and terrorized a rookie for taking the last cup of coffee._

_Juliet did damage control the best she could and had McNab start a fresh pot of coffee. She was used to dealing with her partner's moods, and got the both of them settled catching up on paperwork without any bloodshed. She watched him sipping his second cup of coffee, noting the dark circles under his eyes._

_“Rough night?” she asked cautiously._

_Carlton sighed, rubbing his face. “You could say that. Didn't get much sleep.”_

_Juliet waited, but Carlton didn't say anything else, just went back to working on his case files. He wasn't going to make this easy on her. She would have to dig to find out what was going on. Good thing she already had a pretty good guess. “Did it have anything to do with your meeting last night?”_

_His head snapped up and he looked at Juliet suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”_

_“I was at Mario's last night. I saw you having that dinner meeting,” she said. He seemed to relax slightly at her words, so she decided to press for more information. “Was it about a case?”_

_“I can't really share the details,” he said hesitantly._

_Juliet nodded. She figured he would have told her about the meeting if he could have. “Can I ask how it went?”_

_Carlton's jaw clenched. “Not well,” he said, his words clipped._

_“That's too bad. He seemed like a nice guy,” Juliet said._

_“You talked to him?” Carlton asked sharply._

_“Yeah. I ran into him in the lobby as he was leaving,” she said, taken aback by his tone. Carlton nodded, then bent his head and returned to working on the file. Juliet decided to let the topic drop for now. It seemed to be making him uncomfortable and he was in a foul enough mood as it was. She returned to her own file, quickly finishing it and moving on to the next one._

_“_ _Did he say anything?” Carlton asked suddenly._

 _Juliet looked over at her partner. Carlton was staring down_ _at his hands, fiddling with a pen as he_ _waited for her answer. He seemed_ _twitchy, unsettled_ _, whic_ _h definitely wasn't_ _normal_ _. Business meetings fell through all the time. He usually just got angry and ranted about_ _it_ _for a few hours._ _It_ _didn't_ _mak_ _e_ _sense._ _In fact, his whole behavior while they were talking about the meeting seemed odd._

_The question itself was odd too. The guy must have said something to Carlton before he left. Though now that she thought about it, his message to Carlton made it seem like he had run out on him. Maybe that's why Carlton was unsettled. That was more the thing you expected to happen on a bad date, not during a business meeting._

_“Well?” he asked, when she didn't answer right away. This time, she heard the nervousness in his voice as he asked the question._

_Carlton, who didn't blink when a suspect pulled a gun on him, was sitting there waiting nervously to hear what his dinner partner said about him last night._

_Her eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. Carlton wasn't. . . but it would make sense. . . but he couldn't be. . . that wasn't. . ._

_“_ _Carlton,”_ _she asked, staring at her partner in shock,_ _“was that a date?”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I knew it!” Shawn shouted triumphantly. Several patrons looked over at them, drawn by Shawn's exclamation.

“Shawn,” Juliet said warningly.

“Right, no more interruptions,” he said. He pretended to lock his mouth and throw away the key. He tried to take a sip of his drink, but couldn't because his mouth was 'locked,' which led to a scramble to find the 'key.' Unlocking his mouth, he took big gasping breaths before attacking his drink with a grin at her.

Juliet sighed and continued the story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _“_ _Carlton, was that a date?”_

 _Carlton_ _froze._ _He glanced at her then looked away, dropping the pen to the desk. “Of course not,” he said gruffly._ _He gathered his files into a neat stack as he stood up. “I_ _should file these_ _.”_

_“Carlton, wait,” Juliet said, reaching out to grab his arm as he walked past. He avoided her hand and headed down the hallway._

_Juliet_ _watched him walk off, her mind racing. Carlton was gay? She knew he had been married, and that he had an affair with his last partner, so it was logical for her to assume he was straight._ _Of course, being a detective she knew it was unwise to jump to conclusions about anyone. Thinking back on it, she realized he never went into detail about what his dates looked like and tended to use gender neutral pronouns to describe them. The clues were there, she just hadn't seen them._

_The question now was what she should do next. When he had glanced at her, she had seen the panic on his face. He hadn't wanted her to know about him. She could pretend it was all a joke, let him keep lying to her, and keep things the way they were. Except there had been more than just panic on his face. She had also seen pain and a hint of fear in his eyes. That she couldn't ignore. Decision made, she got up and headed after him._

_He was already gone from the file room by the time she got down there. Since he hadn't headed back upstairs, there was only one other place he would go. She walked further down the hallway towards the interrogation rooms. Seeing the door to the first room open, she cautiously walked inside._

_He was standing with his back to her, hands braced on the table. He slowly straightened up as she entered the room. “_ _What do you want, O'Hara?” he asked without_ _turning_ _around._

_“We need to talk,” she said quietly._

_He sighed, then turned slowly to face her. The look he gave her was cold and indifferent, though she could see the wariness in his eyes. “All right,” he said, crossing his arms, “Talk.”_

_“Were you on a date last night?” she asked._

_“Yes.”_

_“With a man?” she asked._

_He rolled his eyes. “Yes with a man.”_

_“And you weren't undercover or anything like that?” she asked. She wanted to make absolutely sure this time that she had all the facts before jumping to a conclusion._

_“I was on a date last night with a man, of my own free will, not related to a case,” he snapped. “And before you ask the next stupid question, yes, I am gay O'Hara.” The sudden burst of anger seemed to have drained Carlton. He turned away from her,_

_“Oh.” Not the best response, but it was all her befuddled brain could come up with._

_“It's fine if you want to request a new partner. I understand,” he said wearily._

_“A new partner?” Juliet asked in surprise. She walked around the table so she was facing Carlton. “Why would I want a new partner?”_

_He kept his head down, refusing to look at her. “Why wouldn't you, now that you know the truth?”_

_“Do you really think I'm horrible enough to reject you just because you're gay?” she asked indignantly._

_He_ _finally looked up. She could see the pain and_ _sadness_ _in his eyes. “_ _It wouldn't be the first time someone did._ _”_

 _“_ _I don't know what jackasses you've encountered before, but I'm your partner and I care about you. I would never hurt you like that,”_ _she_ _said._

_He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Victoria said almost the same thing before I told her the truth. A few weeks later we were separated.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “No matter how much people say they care, they still turn on you in the end.”_

_“Victoria is a bitch,” Juliet said vehemently. He looked at her in shock, but she pressed on before he could say anything. “If someone truly cares about you, they should accept you for who you are, not turn on you the first chance they get. You're a good man Carlton, and you didn't deserve what she did to you.”_

_He stared at her silently, surprised by her outburst. She walked over to him and gently took his hands into hers. He looked down at their hands, then back up at her. She had never seen him look so vulnerable before. She gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “I'm not Victoria,” she said quietly. “I'll admit, I was shocked to find out, but that doesn't change anything. I'm your partner and I will stand beside you no matter what.”_

_“Thank you, Juliet,” Carlton said softly, the look of gratitude on his face and the rare use of her first name conveying far more than the words themselves expressed._

_She gave his hands another squeeze before letting go and taking a step back. “I just wish you had told me sooner. I wouldn't have kept pushing you to date those women if I had known,” she said._

_“It provided a good cover in case anyone got suspicious,” he said bluntly. He took a deep breath, looking at her carefully. “Look, O'Hara, I don't want anybody else to know about this.”_

_She_ _nodded._ _“I_ _understand. Though I_ _don't think things would turn out badly if other people knew.”_

 _He_ _sighed. “_ _It's better not to take the risk.”_ _He glanced at his watch, then looked over at_ _her_ _._ _“_ _Look, it's been a hell of a morning. How about we grab an early lunch?”_

 _“_ _Sure. I just need to grab my purse from my desk,”_ _she_ _said._

 _They both stayed silent as they left the station._ _She_ _didn't want to push Carlton after the emotional display in the interrogation room. She figured he was feeling embarrassed about what happened. He usually kept his emotions hidden even from her. So she was surprised when he was the first one to break the silence._

_“So why were you at the restaurant?” he asked, glancing over at her as he started the car._

_She smiled wryly. “I was having my own nightmare of a date.” As she told him about it, he gradually relaxed, acting more like his usual self. Juliet was glad._ _It would take awhile for both of them to adjust after all that had been said today, but they would get through it. After all,_ _Carlton was still Carlton, no matter who he was dating._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She didn't tell Shawn and Gus all of the conversation between her and Carlton in the interrogation room, just enough for them to realize how certain Carlton had been of her rejecting him. Shawn seemed to know she was holding something back but thankfully didn't press the topic.

“I still can't believe Lassiter thought you would just abandon him over this,” Gus said. “I know there are some assholes out there but how could he think that about you?”

“He's probably had people he trusted turn on him in the past. It would be harder to trust people after that,” Shawn guessed shrewdly. Gus shot him a look but he ignored it, focusing on Juliet.

She nodded but didn't go into any details. “I guess he shouldn't have trusted me either,” she said morosely.

“It was an accident, Jules,” Shawn gently reminded her. “Besides, you're still there by his side, supporting him in all this.”

Gus nodded. “He'll get over it Juliet.”

She sighed. “I hope you're right. This whole situation at work has him completely stressed out. I just wish there was something we could do to help.”

“You know what would help Lassie to relax?” Shawn asked. “Getting laid.”

“Shawn!” Gus exclaimed.

“Come on, with the way his dates have been going he probably hasn't had sex in months,” Shawn said. “A roll in the sack would do him good.”

“Eww, Shawn. Now I'm not going to get that image out of my mind,” Gus complained.

“Come on Gus,” Shawn said slyly. “It's not like Lassie's the only gay guy out there having sex.”

Gus covered his ears. “I'm not listening Shawn.”

Juliet was tempted to agree with Gus. She didn't want to think about her partner having sex any more than he did, though she was offended on Carlton's behalf by the 'ew.' Carlton was in pretty good shape for his age, great in fact. Not that she had been looking, but she couldn't help noticing some things working with him every day. OK, maybe she had been noticing more now that she knew he was gay and not likely to return the attention. It made it safer, somehow.

Though now that the thought was in her head, she couldn't help thinking about it. She had never really considered the logistics of two guys having sex before. She wondered exactly what they would do, who would be in what position. She supposed it really depended on the guy he was with. . .

“Jules? You still with us?”

Juliet jerked her head up. Shawn was looking at her, a knowing smirk on his face. “Thinking happy thoughts?” he asked wickedly.

Juliet could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks. She cleared her throat, refusing to look in Shawn's direction. “I was thinking you may have a point. About Carlton not being good on dates,” she added quickly as Shawn's grin grew wider.

“Sure that's all you were thinking?” Shawn asked slyly.

Juliet felt Gus move next to her. Shawn suddenly sat up straighter, wincing slightly. “Knock it off, Shawn,” Gus said, glaring at him.

“I'm going to have a big bruise on my leg now,” Shawn muttered.

Gus ignored his grumbling. “What did you have in mind?” he asked Juliet.

“Maybe we should try to set Carlton up with somebody. Do you guys know anyone who is gay and available?” Juliet asked.

Shawn and Gus exchanged a look. “I might know someone,” Shawn said.

“Do you think he'd like Carlton?” she asked eagerly.

Shawn grinned. “I think Carlton is exactly this person's type.” He winced and sat up straight suddenly, glaring at Gus across the table. “What?”

“You know what,” Gus replied.

Shawn was about to reply, when his attention was caught by something behind Juliet. “Well, look who finally showed up.”

Juliet turned. Carlton had just entered the bar. He had a resigned look on his face and was scanning the crowed looking for them. She ducked down, suddenly thinking this was a bad idea.

Shawn stood up, waving his arms. “Hey Lassie!”

Carlton spotted Shawn instantly. He squared his shoulders and started making his way towards them.

Shawn sat down, giving Juliet a reassuring grin. “Don't worry. Everything will be fine.”

Juliet took a deep breath, nodding. She chugged down the rest of her drink, ignoring the amused looks from both Shawn and Gus. Right now she could use all the courage she could get.

Bracing herself, she turned to face Carlton as he reached the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


End file.
